r no Crime, nor Pleasure of her own,
Reveals it to him, knowing not at first,
What might the Cause be--tho' she fear'd the worst.
He strives to pacifie her twenty ways
Blushes--or wou'd do if he'd any Grace.
Tells Her the truth in Penetential strain,
And vows he'll never do the like again,
She weeps, forgives him all--but must endure,
The manner, and the Charges of a Cure;
Where One in twenty scarce so perfect be,
But that they leave it to Posterity.

_The Sixth Comfort of a Town Life._

Or where they 'scape the plagues of _Pox_ and _Pills_,
The Sin is liable to fifty Ills,
Of equal Danger, tho' a diff'rent Cure,
As he that dreading Claps wou'd Sin secure;
For soon the pliant Wretch he has beguil'd
Hath to his Charge and wonder prove with Child:
At which, 'tmay properly be said a Man,
Leaps from the Fire to the Frying-pan,
This for his Reputation sake must be reveal'd
When Claps are only as a Jest reveal'd
She's now Remov'd--Deliver'd--and the Nurse;
Comes thick and threefold to Exhaust his Purse;
A blessed Life that woful Mortal bears,
With _Nurse_ and _Child_, and _Mother_ in his Ears.
Arm'd with a Thousand things that must be had,
Till they have drein'd him poor and made him mad:
What better (had he been convin'd before,)
He had Transgress'd with some Obedient Whore.

_The Seventh Pleasure of a Town Life._

Another that he may his Joys secure,
Turns _Limbetham_ and keep some Gaudy whore,
Thinks her his own--when Satan knows her his mind,
Is like her Body not to be confin'd,
As constant as the Moon, she plays her part,
And like a Viper preys upon his Heart:
Draws him so poor, till like her Slaves,
Which she bestows on some smart Fop she loves,
For this is with 'em a perpetual Rule,
They never Love the Person that they fool,
This he perceives not till it is too late,
Till Ruined in his Person and Estate.
And then good Night, when all his money's gone,
Miss leaves him too, to ply about the Town.

_The Eighth Pleasure of a Town Life._

But above all--if't be within thy Power,
Oh Fate! to Curse me any mor